


Rise of a Lion

by orphan_account



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-06 03:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14633448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Danny transfers to a new high school and tries to fit in, fighting for his place.- High School Alternative Universe -





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone knows the distress coming with the first day of high school. Your hands are sweaty and shaking, clenched around your backpack straps. Your eyes skip back and forth between the hallways and the other students standing at their lockers, all of their eyes on you. If you trip or even fall, they will see. If you laugh too hard, they will see. If you have a full-blown panic attack when you can’t draw in a single breath and you are tearing up, hugging yourself, they will most surely see.

This feeling of helplessness mixing in with the anxiety is awful for a freshman, no question, however the anxiety riseswhen you transfer to the high school in a later year, fully aware of all the cliques already formed not exactly open for new members.

Right now, being a new student in junior year, and seeing all these strangers casting their glances at me, this is the worst feeling I have ever experienced. The piercing pain in my chest only adds to the thoughts racing through my head about the consequences of every single breath. What if I am having a heart attack right now, and wrongly dismiss it as a panic attack. As soon as I collapsed in the hallway, even if I survived, I could never set another foot in this building without being ashamed of this incident. Consequently, having a heart attack would be the worst possible outcome of this situation. Compared to the never-ending shame attached to such a fit, a panic attack doesn’t sound this threatening anymore. Okay, just take a deep breath, Danny, you’ll be fine. I’m too young to have a unpredicted heart attack with no previous conditions. For a second, I return to the reality, only to be caught up again in the eyes of everybody on me. Surprisingly, I have made it to the end of the floor subconsciously and judging from the quiet chatter in the background I didn’t fall either. I would hear them laughing if I had.

Luckily, before I could give up on the silent celebration of a successful walk down the hall without stumbling, I recognised my locker number and breathed out in relief, opening it with the combo I had received via e-mail and dropping off the majority of school books in there. Rolling my shoulders to relax the muscles a little bit, I step back slightly, closing the locker door again. Here we go, welcome to a new hell hole.

Turning around, I notice a guy standing right behind me, leaning against the opposite line of lockers. Judging from the crossed arms and challenging stare, he is one of the classic jocks you hear the awful stories about. Stories of bullies beating up nerds for no apparent reason, always catching the blonde cheerleader chicks, that scenario. But I’m not a nerd in their definition — I’m most certainly not a blonde cheerleader.

"Hey, faggot! You’re new here, so let’s set some facts straight …", he spits out, coming closer.

"Strange way to introduce me to the school’s guidelines and dress code."

I know that speaking up to those jocks most of the time doesn’t do you any good, but I don’t want to give up immediately.

"You think you can talk back to me? Rule number 1: don’t."

So I found the wannabe ruler of this year and already angered him. That’s just terrific. I might not be able to write good grades in every subject, but I’m the king of making bullies mad. My crown is a swollen eye and my sceptre is a bunch of scattered bruises across my body. Taking into account his fists clenching and his heavy steps towards me I have proven to be worthy once again.

"I think I need to teach you a lesson, faggot!"

That’s the one sentence always haunting me, no matter when, and surprisingly, in a bunch of different voices. It seems to be some term of acknowledgement in the society of assholes. And it is always followed by a punch in the stomach or alternatively the face. This time, I am not disappointed again, feeling the connection of his fist with my lower abdomen. I huff out a breath, stumbling backwards into the lockers.

"You aren’t the first one to say that and I sure as hell haven’t learned from previous experiences."

There I go again, risking my health for the one reason of not giving up just yet. Nevertheless, I do regret it when the second punch knocks be down to the ground. Scrambling backwards, I look up in time to see the jock lifting his arm to underline his previous statement about teaching experience, but the expected hit never comes. Instead, there is a loud shout and the sound someone falling to the ground.

"Leave the kid alone!"

I open my eyes again and watch the jock scramble off the floor, while another student builds up in front of me. He doesn’t look any less intimidating than the bully with his gauges, camouflage cap, and army boots, but when he turns to look at me his lips pull into an encouraging smile.

"Are you hurt?"

Carefully touching my stomach but hissing at the pressure, I shake my head and grin back.

"Had a lot worse."

His eyes shoot up in surprise, but he doesn’t comment on the obvious misconception, instead reaching out to help me up. Once I’m back on my feet I expect him to leave and go tell all his friends about the stupid new student. However, he doesn’t leave, keeping a hand on my shoulder to steady me a little bit.

"Are you sure about that? You look a little … well … beaten."

I shrug it off and force myself to smile a little wider at him.

"Man, it’s school … do you expect me to look like I’m enjoying life?"

He chuckles dryly, shaking his head.

"Not exactly."

Breaking eye contact, I bend down to pick up my books and more importantly at the moment my schedule. The savior looks at me with a raised eyebrow, before glancing down at my schedule as well.

"Dude, we share the first class! That’s awesome! Come on, I can show you the room …"

With that he grabs my wrist and pulls me around the corner, not waiting for me to comment on his discovery. He actually does look like he doesn’t mind my presence at the moment, although compared to his military punk style I look like a complete idiot.

-

As soon as we reach the classroom door, he holds me back gently, looking straight into my eyes.

"I should warn you about the teacher … Mr Hoppus can be quite a dick if you’re late, haven’t prepared for class or fail an exam, but otherwise he’s completely harmless."

I nod along, mentally taking the note to do my homework at all times in this class, although it’s English so I might give up immediately about the exams — it’s never been my strong subject.

"Just don’t worry for now, I’ll warn him ahead that you’re a transfer. That might save you some trouble for the first weeks if you have to catch up on the topics."

I honestly don’t understand his willingness to help me out additional to his defending me. However, I won’t complain for now as the mysterious stranger opens the door and pulls me along up to the teacher’s desk where a man in his forties is standing, scrolling on his laptop absent-mindedly. When we walk up to him, he slowly looks up and smiles at us.

"Jorel! So nice of you to come and say hello. I see you bringing someone new …"

He turns his focus to me and reaches out to offer a handshake which I return.

"I’m Mr Hoppus, or Mark if you prefer, I don’t care. I guess you are a new student this year …"

"Daniel Murillo, sir."

Mr Hoppus chuckles quietly and glances over at my savior now officially named Jorel.

"Oh my, Jorel, did you tell him this is not a military academy?"

Jorel shrugs with a smile. This must be some insider joke I don’t get … are they both fooling me? What if the teachers turn against me as well? Was I too impolite? What did I do wrong this time?

A hand on the back of my shoulder draws me out of my thoughts and I quickly realise that it’s Jorel, the touch closely monitored by Mr Hoppus. Great, embarrassing myself twice in front of Jorel and in front of my teacher. This is just brilliant.

"Anyway, why don’t you sit down next to Jorel in the back row, Daniel, he can catch you up on the content of last semester. And, you really don’t have to call me 'sir' or anything, I don’t care for that stuff."

Unable to speak up, I nod, and Jorel removes his hand from my shoulder to lead me towards two desks right next to each other. As slowly as possible I sat down, hands clenching in my jeans pockets. I huffed out a shaky breath and tried to focus on a dark spot on the floor in front of my desk to calm down.

"You’re really scared of authority figures, aren’t you?", Jorel asks quietly, watching me intently. 

"No …?"

He laughs quietly, taking out a pen from his bag and slowly reaching across the gap between our desks, tapping my right arm gently. I raise my eyebrow at him, and he simply grabs it carefully, pulling it closer to himself.

"Just let me try out something … it always calms me down."

Since there isn’t much more to go wrong this day, and I have a sweater in my bag in case he draws something explicit on my wrist, I don’t resist and let him start sketching. He looks completely focused while he draws flowery patterns on my arm. Not exactly the motive I had expected.

"Sorry if you don’t like flowers, I just need the practice …", he mumbles apologetically. Now it’s my time to shrug it off, seeing that I don’t mind the pattern and his sketches are really good.

"So … why have you transferred here?", Jorel asks, making small talk.

"Shitty accident happened and then my mother was convinced I needed a change of scenery so here I am", I responded dismissively, avoiding the truth, but not exactly lying.

"That sounds like you disagree with her."

With his eyes still fixated on his artwork he continues to make small talk without actually caring about my responses enough to interrogate me. It should feel weird to talk to this kind of wall only interrupted by short comments, but it felt relieving to get something off my chest without the other person worrying about it while still being a person.

"I don’t disagree directly with her it’s just … damn it, I don’t know."

"You miss your old friends?", he suggests and hits home directly. Not that I actually had close friends in my old school, but there were some guys I liked hanging out with.

"Yeah. Pretty much."

Jorel nods along and adds some finishing touches to the art on my arm. Then, he looks up again and his eyes light up as he points to the Slipknot logo drawn onto my folder.

"Dude, you like Slipknot … you know what, why don’t you hang out with my friends and me at lunch?", he offers."You know, they can be assholes, but they like the same music and they’re actually quite nice. I’m sure they don’t mind."

I stare at him wide-eyed, probably looking like a deer in the lights of an oncoming bus.

"What?"

"Do you want to hang out with my friends and me at lunch?"

Something must be really off with this guy that he doesn’t push me away yet after I have presented him with no self-defence as well as anxiety.

"Okay, don’t break your head over this, if you want to be on your own and relax that’s completely fine. Just offering you a choice here."

I force myself to take another breath and calm my heartbeat before I meet his gaze again.

"I- I don’t know if-", I stop when he takes my arm again and starts drawing once more. When he’s done, he grins at me and I look down at a smiley staring back. It’s kind of cute to be honest, and somehow slows down my heart rate back to a normal rate.

"I guess I have nothing better to do anyway, but I don’t wanna intrude …"

Jorel grins at me and ruffles my hair.

"You aren’t intruding — they will love you."

I open my mouth to answer, to disagree, but then Mr Hoppus’ voice cuts in:

"Jorel, I am pleased to see you are helping Daniel catch up on the topics, however, I cannot remember ever talking about flower patterns on wrists in this class — please pay attention!"


	2. Chapter 2

Luckily, Jorel and I have all our classes in the morning together, so we leave our calculus class before lunch break, which is actually my last class of the day. And this is the moment I realise my biggest mistake: agreeing to hang out with Jorel and his friends without secretly texting my mother in class that I’m coming home late. Looking over at Jorel I realise that there is no way in hell he will still hang out with me if I call her now to ask for permission — he already witnessed me getting a good beating, no need to embarrass myself further. However, I’m too stuck up not to call my mother to warn her. So I need an escape route to slip in a call without catching Jorel’s attention. And walking down the hallway my eyes catch sight of the perfect place to do so.

"Yo, Jorel, mind if I just take a sec?", I ask, nodding towards the bathrooms. Jorel shakes his head and opens his locker to drop off his books.

"Go ahead, I’ll wait here."

Free from his watching eyes, although he honestly looks so tired I doubt he is paying attention to anything, I quietly cheer to myself when I find the bathroom empty. Quickly, I pull out my phone, but decide not to call and text instead to be on the safe side.

>>To Mom: Quick warning — I’m hanging with some classmates after school so I’ll be home later.

It only takes her a second to respond.

>From Mom: That’s great. Just be home for dinner.

I know that my mother isn’t going to say anything against me meeting up with people, she always says I should try to socialise more, but it feels safer to know of her approval.

Leaving the bathroom again I find Jorel still at his locker as promised, talking to some really buff guy with a white jacket decorated with what I hope are fake blood stains. I hesitate for a second, but Jorel catches my eye and waves me over with a bright smile, making the buff stranger turn around to look at me as well.

"Daniel, this is George, he’s one of the gang coming to the skate park as well."

"Just Danny is completely fine, but it’s nice to meet you."

George simply stares at me, raising an eyebrow. Great, apparently he already dislikes me and the rest of the group probably won’t be too fond of me either, until I finally leave them alone.

"George, be nice", Jorel whispers passive-aggressively, smile not dropping for a second.

Slowly, George unfolded his arms and lifted the corners of his mouth ever the slightest.

"Sorry, reflexes."

It’s clear that he doesn’t feel apologetic at all, but at least he doesn’t look like he’s about to murder me in my sleep so I’ll take that as a small win. A very small win. Besides, he will stay around at least for lunch break so it’s better not to comment on his appearance or behaviour.

"Don’t be bothered by his grim looks, he’s a sweetheart"

Jorel seems to be really sure about keeping me around and to be honest it warms my heart. I have never found someone to immediately hang around with on my first day, or first week, or first month.

"Fuck of, J-Dog!"

I look back and forth between the two, but decide not to jump in. Instead, I wait for them to finish their special moment and start walking towards the skate park.

 

On the way, George excuses himself to talk to his girlfriend and follow us later, dismissing Jorel’s whistling.

"So, Danny, what classes do you have after lunch?"

"I don’t have any."

Jorel raises his eyebrows at me and pulls out his own phone to offer to me. When I stare back at him questioningly, he presses it into my hand.

"If you are coming home later than planned you should call your parents, shouldn’t you?"

"What?"

What game is the punk playing with me?

"Isn’t your family worried if you come home late or are they working?"

"Uh, my mom is, but …"

Before I can finish the sentence Jorel stops walking and stares at me anxiously, hands fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt.

"Are you- are you safe there?"

Wait up — does he actually worry about me being abused at home?

"Yes! I absolutely am … I wanted to say that I already texted my mom when I went to the bathroom earlier."

Jorel breathes out in relief and smiles at me.

"That’s good. That’s really good. Okay, sorry, I can be a little overprotective sometimes."

Before I can tell him that it’s okay and not to worry about it, two guys come up to us and engulf Jorel in a tight hug, turning around to look at me.

"Yo, Jay, who are you bringing to the party?"

"That’s Danny — new kid in my English class."

I step back a little to hide behind Jorel as much as possible, but sadly they aren’t having any of it. The taller of the two shoots me a lopsided grin.

"I’m the homie Funny Man", he starts but gets slapped by the smaller. "Or Dylan …"

"And I’m Jordon …", the other introduces himself and quite noticeable eyes me completely before turning back to Jorel who is watching the exchange with a small smile.

"Where’s our grumpy face?"

"With his chick. He promised to come in a minute. Where’s Deuce and Matt?"

So there are supposed to be even more people? Why the fuck did I agree with Jorel to come with him?

"Not sure. Matt’s sick and at home, but Deuce is just being a diva again."

It’s awkward standing here watching them talk and honestly, I simply want to turn around and leave, but I can’t disappoint the guy who saved my ass like that on the first day. It will happen soon enough anyway, so just take a breath and let’s get this over with, they will have to go back to class in an hour and then I’m officially free from socialising and can finally go home to practice guitar and do nothing productive. Nothing.

"Earth to Danny!", a voice calls out and a hand is waving in front of my eyes, grounding me back in reality. I focus my eyes again to see Jordon standing in front of me while Jorel and Dylan are already on their boards.

"What’s up?", I ask as relaxed as possible, earning a small chuckle in return.

"Smooth recovery, but are you okay?"

I nod slowly, quickly casting my eyes to the ground to avoid staring at him. Apparently, that isn’t the correct response to him, because he pushes my head back up and forces me to look him straight in the eye.

"Are you actually scared we will hurt you or simply shy?"

He doesn’t expect me to say that I am scared of them hurting me, right? I mean, I’m not, but still … Okay, I might be a little scared that George is gonna hit me, but not Jordon standing here with puppy eyes.

"Shy", I mumble quietly, and he lets go of my chin, smiling softly.

"Okay, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it."

It’s weird hearing one of the obviously cool kids talk about weaknesses as if they are no big deal. Of course I would never hate somebody simply for being insecure, but then again I’ve only ever had two or three friends. I don’t mind, but Jordon seems to be someone who likes to be surrounded by people, so why put up with me chasing them away?

"Okay, now you’re just hurting yourself with your thinking. You look like you are contemplating relativity theory."

Somehow his smile is not fading yet, and he keeps being a fucking sunshine. Completely opposite to George who is showing up now with his earlier grumpy look. Either that look had nothing to do with me in the hallway or he hates his girlfriend just as much. Nevertheless, I can’t help but watch like a deer in the lights of an oncoming bus as he is walking over to Dylan and Jorel who are chatting with another guy with crazy hair.

Upon arrival, Dylan starts laughing about a comment Jorel makes, the stranger joining in. George’s look changes from scary to psychopathic and for a second I have no doubt that he is about to punch them in the face, but he shakes his head and turns away from the group, noticing Jordon and me standing a little to the side of the park still and he starts to head towards us.

"Can you put something cool on my grave?", I ask Jordon who chuckles loudly.

"He’s not gonna kill you — not yet. He might be pissed off, but he sure as hell likes sticking to a plan."

Before I can respond, George has reached us and engulfs Jordon in a quick hug before nodding in my direction like some weird marine soldier in a war movie my father likes to watch.

"Finally saying hi to your boyfriend, are you?", Jordon prompts, and I stare at them. Didn’t Jorel just say that George was with his girlfriend? And even if girlfriend was code for boyfriend, I have been standing here with Jordon so the two definitely weren’t together.

"Stop messing with the new kid, Jord."

He sounds less threatening than he looks, tired describes it better. However, he still doesn’t really look in my direction or acknowledge my presence, instead pushing Jordon away who is trying to press a kiss to his cheek.

"But I love you!"

"Oh my God, you are truly one clingy bitch …", George jokes back — at least I think that’s his joking tone —pulling a grimace when Jordon manages to lick rather than kiss his face.

"I’m your bitch."

"Of course you are my bitch. You are everybody’s bitch."

Jordon obviously wants to disagree with this statement, but George turns towards me still standing there confused as hell.

"For your information: no, we are not a couple, but yes Jordon here is horny as fuck."

"I am not horny; I am simply looking for some love!"

His comment is brushed off with a dismissing hand gesture and then the bell rings already, signalling the end of lunch break. Time for me to head home, and internally laugh at Jorel for being forced to sit through more classes. Speaking of Jorel, he is coming up to me, putting an arm around my shoulders.

"I see you and Jordon get along great — why don’t you hang out with us tomorrow at lunch again? We’re always out here if you want to find us …"

I nod in approval and Jorel smiles brightly at me, half-way turning to go into the building when Jordon stops both him and me in our steps.

"Why don’t you come over to Jorel’s after school for band practice? Just to chill and listen to us being fucking awesome."

Jorel nods slowly.

"Sure, if you wanna. Just give me your number real quick and I can text you the address and time and shit."

"In that order?"

"I might change the order", Jorel admits as he hands me his phone to text myself to type in my number and give it back to him as quickly as possible.

With a last smirk Jordon and Jorel disappear in the school building, and I start heading towards the bus station, when my phone vibrates due to a new message. It only says one word:

> From unknown: Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments on the last chapter - your feedback is always greatly appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

When I arrive at the address Jorel has given me, I am immediately greeted by Dylan who holds the door open for me with a smile as I jump of my skateboard.

"Awesome to see you, dude!"

It feels a little weird to be greeted that friendly by someone I barely know, but he seems to waste no second to worry about it. Instead, he confidently leads me through the small front garden of the house and to the side of the garage where he knocks on the door. After what couldn’t be more than two seconds the door is opened by George who actually lifts one corner of his mouth in an attempt of a smile. Not that it makes him look any less menacing, but I appreciate the gesture.

"Come in, almost everybody is here already."

"Let me guess, Deuce is missing", Dylan comments off-handedly, brushing past George to head over to the other guys standing on a makeshift stage made out of empty beverage boxes. George nods even though the other cannot see him anymore and steps to the side to let me in.

"Welcome to our cave."

Only then the others’ heads snap over to us and Jordon immediately lights up, rushing over to pull me in a hug. It’s still a little awkward, but I go with it in favour of not making a complete fool of myself. Jorel stays over where he is but waves at me while Jordon is leading me to a couch.

"Sit down and enjoy the ambiance."

"Didn’t know you knew such hard words …"

He grins at me before showing me a very unkind hand gesture with a smile.

"Let’s start shall we?", Jordon exclaims and steps away from me onto the stage, grabbing one of the beaten up guitars that is standing on the wall. However, nobody else moves.

"It’s exactly 4 pm, let’s wait and give Deuce like five minutes to show up", Jorel weighs in, sitting down next to me as I watch Jordon roll his eyes in annoyance. Apparently, Deuce is not on his list of favourite people.

"Jay, we all know that this fucking bastard is unable to read his clock and just shows up when he wants to. Seriously, I am so sick of putting up with that all the time", George complains loudly, dropping down on my other side and kicking the chair standing in front of him away.

Whoever Deuce is, he is pushing these two’s buttons and even though Jorel has opted to wait for him, it is quite obvious that he in fact does not want to be bothered with him either.

"Danny, to give you the gist: Deuce, or Aron, is our singer and used to be really motivated about that, but lately he is letting himself go more and more, doesn’t show up to practice, doesn’t cooperate on new songs and all that crap."

"But you keep him in the band …"

For one second I fear I have overstepped my boundaries, but George simply shakes his head and responds: "I want to kick him out, but it is not worth the trouble of awakening his inner demon diva."

The agreeing nods coming from everybody else tells me that they do not want to open that topic either. Not that I can blame them, I usually avoid as much conflict as possible and who knows, maybe this Aron or Deuce guy is really good at singing.

 

After ten minutes of waiting, Aron still hasn’t shown up to the room and everybody has started busying themselves. Jorel is sitting at the keyboard playing some random melodies, Dylan and Jordon are chasing each other through the garage, and George is still sitting next to me, reading. Glancing over at him I realise that what he is reading is more than just a simple novel or maybe even a mandatory book for class, but a collection of poems from the nineteenth century. When he notices me staring he slowly casts his glance on me.

"Problem with me reading?"

"No, man, not at all. Just didn’t expect you to read poetry."

He frowns at me, but does not comment on it further. What am I thinking anyway, staring at the most threatening person in the room? I mean, I know that anybody else who is around at the moment would not mind at all, but I have to stare at the one person who will.

"Yeah, get that a lot. But once you get the hang of it, it’s not as complicated as you might think."

Okay, that one was better than expected. Apparently, he is not quickly insulted which is really saving my ass right now. Or he waits until everybody else isn’t around to beat me up then. I mean, that would probably hurt like a bitch, but I can come to terms to it slowly. It wouldn’t be the first time I am in a fight with someone stronger than me. It’s never pretty, but I am still alive, so it’s not that dangerous. I should start preparing mentally for a broken nose and cheekbone as quickly as possible before I say the next stupid thing to test his patience.

"So everybody can understand them? Because in class I am completely lost when we discuss poems …"

"Oh absolutely, you only have to understand the mindset back then and the rest is easy to follow. "

I pause for a second, before forcing myself to keep eye contact for a second.

"That might sound strange, but could you help me out understanding these poems?"

Just when I want to start to explain further why I cannot do that by myself and rely on his help he actually smiles at me and nods.

"Of course I can. Do you have them in class right now?"

I groan in response, making him chuckle.

"Okay, then, how about we meet up in the library tomorrow during free period, you bring the last poem you had in class and we can discuss it. But you have to bring the material."

Maybe this is part of his plan to make my life miserable, but I suck in my English class so I have no other options. Furthermore, he looks non-threatening at the moment with the prominent half-smile.

"Thank you!"

"Thank me when you receive the next exam and ace it."

I grin back at him, nodding and am about to say more, when there’s a knocking sound at the door.

"Oh, look who decided to show …", Jorel grins as he slowly walks over there to pull it open and reveal a bony guy who smirks back at him.

"Haven’t started without me I see."

"Don’t get too cocky, you’re still late and George is not happy with you."

The stranger, who I assume is Aron, glances over at George to wave and stops short when he sees me.

"Who’s that weird blondie?"

Immediately, before I can fully realise what is going on, Jordon jumps offstage and stands between Aron and me.

"He’s a new kid and just hanging out with us while you are doing God knows what. The moment you can insult him is the moment that you are out of the band, dickface."

Okay, that is a protective instinct. Honestly, I did not expect to be defended against anybody anymore by these guys, but of course I won’t complain about it. It actually feels good to have some sort of armour around me other than my own skin and a row of silent curses I can throw at someone’s head.

"Already in love, huh? Whatever."

For a second Jordon looks about to flip, but Jorel puts a hand on his shoulder and he lets out a breath before moving to get on the stage.

"Let’s just practice, okay? We’re already running out of time …"

Everybody grunts out some form of agreement and follows the example, grabbing an instrument of their choice. Jorel heads over to the keyboard standing on an old laundry rack, Jordon takes back his guitar, George lifts a bass guitar and everybody watches Aron slowly walk over to the microphone.

"Where’s Matt?"

"He’s sick so he’s not coming. We’ll have to deal without him for now."

Aron raises his eyebrow.

"But we’re practicing without a drummer?"

Jordon nods.

"Yeah, sometimes you just have to improvise. Like when you disappear again."

A dry chuckle comes from the skinny teen.

"As if you could replace me …"

The rest of the band laughs along, but I can see in their eyes that they do not doubt that for a second. I mean, honestly, Aron doesn’t seem to be a totally bad guy, however, he isn’t making himself popular right now.

Nevertheless, when they start playing, I realise that no matter how provocative Aron can be, his voice suits the vocals perfectly with the light scratching sound that gives the whole song a rock sound. This sound mixes in with the rap parts that the other guys throw in by stepping up to the one microphone. It sounds amazing. Especially if I keep in mind that they aren’t trained professionals rather just a bunch of students having some fun.

"This next song is called we haven’t got a title yet!", Jordon screams in the microphone with a sly grin in my direction before hitting the first chord. It’s a softer number, sounds a lot calmer than the mixed screaming before, but that doesn’t stop them from rocking it. Only for a second when I let my mind wander to listen to the lyrics I wonder which one of them wrote these. They are dark, filled with late-night thoughts and self-hatred — but definitely not randomly scribbled down. Judging from my first impression, none of them seem to be troubled at the moment, but then again, I know the power of fake smiles. You can fool anybody with these — I have tried it out myself. For years I was able to hide everything I was worrying about from my mother, until my facade broke once and now she doesn’t trust that smile anymore. That probably saved my life so while it can be annoying to have her worrying about me all the time.If these guys know about similar struggles as well, maybe this will finally become a time of my life where I don’t have to deal with all of the rejection and disbelief, instead they might actually understand. Not that I am about to talk to them about this personal stuff yet, but at least I know that I do not have to purposely distance myself from them immediately.

"Dude, you’re thinking too hard again!", someone calls out and my head snaps up to see George standing on the edge of the stage with a beer in his hand. As soon as he notices me watching him intently he fishes out another can from underneath the stage and throws it in my direction.

"Enjoy the buzz and relax", heexclaims sincerely before jumping back to his feet and kicking off the next song, another careless one. The dark mood from before disappears into something about California and getting wasted. Just a stereotypical party anthem in which Dylan quite excessively starts grinding on Jordon who plays along quite nicely. Well, they for sure aren’t homophobic …

 

After about three consecutive hours of intense practice, they jump off stageand Jordon drops down next to me panting heavily but smiling from the adrenaline and dopamine rush.

"You like it?"

"Definitely — you’re awesome!"

He grins at me steals the rest of my beer. Then, he jumps up and pulls me along with him.

"How about I drive you home? There’s nothing happening here anymore anyway."

I raise my eyebrow at him but don’t immediately disagree either. It has been a little distance to Jorel’s home, nothing I couldn’t drive back on my board, however, I am still lazy so a ride would be amazing.

"If it’s no trouble …"

"Dude, I’m trying to stalk you and this is the easiest way to get your address."

"At least you’re honest."

He nods sincerely and pulls out his car keys.

"So what do you say?"

My pause is really only a method to dramatise my response: "Stalk me, Jordon."


	4. Chapter 4

When I enter the library I take a quick look around, but no bulk guy sitting at one of the tables, only a group of Freshmen sitting together over some biology books. Did he forget about our meeting or does he actively ignore it right now? Not that I can really blame him for not wanting to spend time with me, but I honestly thought that he would stick to a plan.Then again, why am I expecting someone from a rock band to show up for a meeting? Should I wait here some more or actually leave? I decide to give him ten minutes to show up in case he got let out of class later or something and sit down at one of the empty tables, grabbing my English homework to look over. The poem is hard to read, and I want to give up after the first verse, but just as I am about to drop my head on the table I hear loud chattering coming from the door. I turn my head around and see Jordon talking excitedly, waving his hands around while George is standing next to him, raising his eyebrow ever so slightly. Once he sees me he quickens his pace and sits down next to me with a sigh, pushing the chair next to him out of Jordon’s reach.

"Sorry I’m late, this fucker is getting on my nerves."

Jordon beams at me and sits down on my other side instead, glancing at the paper in front of me.

"Damn, Danny-Boy, you actually brought a poem with you …"

I blush slightly at the nickname and try to ignore him by looking at George who smirks ever so slightly.

"I hope he did, I told him to", he states towards Jordon before reaching over and taking a look at the weird markings and notes that I scribbled down to the few words that made sense to me. It looks a mess, and I doubt he can readit, but he doesn’t complain immediately. Nevertheless, the longer he is looking at the poem the broader his lips stretch into a full smile that turns into a quiet chuckle and finally ends in laughter.

"Are you serious about these notes?"

I look down onto the table and shrug, suddenly becoming fully aware of how bad my work must be compared to his.

"I don’t understand a single verse. I’m just guessing there."

Instead of making jokes about it like I expected, George puts the paper down again and quickly copies the poem on a blank page that he lays in front of me.

"I want you to read the first line and tell me what you think the most important word of the line is."

I force my eyes to scan the first line again and again until I settle on the word "black" that stands out from the others. It’s the only word with a negative tint to it compared to the rest. Surprisingly, George agrees with my choice and hands me a blue marker.

"Mark that one word only to find it quickly again. The blue is representing negative atmosphere, we will use yellow for positive attributes if they show up later in the poem."

"So I should mark all negative aspects?", I ask him but he shakes his head quickly.

"No, we are settling for one word that stands out for every single line, and we check if that one word that seems to be most important is negative or positive. In the end, we want few markings but good references for the analysis. Also don’t take notes about the words yet, we will add those later when we got the whole context."

I nod slowly, trying to grasp on his concept and move on to the next line.

 

After roughly ten minutes of going through every line again and again until we come to the end of the poem and now I have 18 words marked in blue, but two in yellow.

"First impression on the mood of the poem?", George prompts.

"Mostly negative, but a positive ending …", I guess and his smile tells me that I am correct this time. Next to me Jordon who has been astoundingly quiet so far raises his hand in a high five.

"So now we move to round two, finding rhetorical figures in the poem. Do you know what I mean?"

"Like metaphors, anaphoras and shit?"

George nods and points his finger to the fourth line.

"So what do we have here?"

"Metaphor?"

It’s really more of a guess than actual knowledge and George shakes his head again.

"No, but it’s close."

He looks at me for a second before deciding that I actually have no clue of these terms, so he continues: "It’s a symbol."

"What’s the difference? Why does it matter?", Jordon asks while rolling his eyes.

"Well, if you want to get an F then don’t bother to know the difference, but Danny asked me for help to get better so I am teaching him the deal to get a B or even an A, okay? If you are bored then go hang out with the other guys", George challenges him, but Jordon doesn’t respond neither does he get up.

"But the first question proves helpful, so I will answer that one for you, Danny. A symbol is something commonly used to represent an aspect that usually has little to do with the plain object."

"Like the dove for peace?"

"Exactly, that’s the perfect example. But a metaphor takes two objects and projects one aspect of one object onto the other. It sounds more complicated than it is … an example would be the foot of the mountain."

"What?"

If I wasn’t lost before that I sure am now.

"You have two objects, a foot and the mountain, so you take one aspect of the foot, that it is on the bottom of a human body, and relate it to the mountain, meaning the bottom of the mountain", George tries to explain but I can see him struggling for the words. However, the idea is becoming clear in my head. But that main idea still doesn’t make understanding the poem any easier. If anything it gives me more to worry and stress about. Why does English have to be so complicated and intentional? Why not read a poem and say: the reason why this is written like this is tequila with a dash of whiskey after.

"Do you understand it?"

"Not sure yet, but I think I got most of it."

He nods slowly and points to another line.

"So is this a metaphor or a symbol?"

I stare at the words for a whole minute before prompting: "Symbol?"

"No, that’s a metaphor. I’m not sure how to find another explanation but I think we just need to take a look at some different examples."

I groan in embarrassment and exhaustion, a dull headache already announcing itself in the back of my head. This isn’t supposed to be hard, I know that I already heard the terminology in earlier grades but I never grasped it and now I didn’t have any idea of what to do while George was slowly but surely coming to an end with his patience.

"I’m sorry", I mumble quietly, but George stares at me like I punched him in the face.

"What? Why? It’s not your fault I cannot explain it to you well enough … we’ll get there, trust me, we might just need some more lunch breaks to spend here. That’s completely fine by me. "

It’s funny how I thought that he would beat me up immediately and now he was offering free tutoring sessions in his break just to help me out in English. Honestly, I don’t understand him, but I feel like I don’t really have to.

"Really?"

"Dude, you look so worn out today, I think it’s best if you just stick to the content and mood that we have already discussed and we’ll take a look at rhetoric another time."

I am about to respond something, anything really, but he is already rising and Jordon next to me has wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug that is taking me a little by surprise.

"Don’t look at me like that – I just listened to George geek out in English, I need a hug", he explains off-handedly with a pout while holding onto me a little tighter. I have no idea of how to react so I let my instincts take over and wrap my arms around his torso to keep him in place while he grins up at me. Apparently he’s okay with this. Instead of flipping out, or calling me out for being gay, or whatever, he grabs a pen and starts drawing doves with grenades on my folder with a growing smile.

"It’s our band logo. Do you like it?"

"I might like it if someone draws it better than a three year old."

Jordon pouts again and throws the pen in my face.

"I am a modern artist, thank you very much. I will draw a straight red line in your face and sell you for a million dollars. Maybe even a little more."

I chuckle at his antics and pick the pen up to put it back in my bag.

"Human trafficking and slavery is illegal, you know. Even if you label it expressive art or something."

Jordon raises his eyebrows a little and shrugs.

"Do I look like I live according to the law? I’m a motherfucking gangster!"

"Children nowadays, smoke weed once and call themselves gangster", George mumbles next to us, making me glance over at him. Honestly, I have forgotten that he is still there, but he seems to be more than fine with watching us doing whatever the fuck Jordon is doing right now. It looks somewhere in between falling asleep and being drunk, and I actually wouldn’t be surprised if he came to school at least tipsy. Apparently George can read minds because he glances at his friend in half on my lap and comments: "To answer your questions: yes, he did drink two beers about an hour ago when skipping Maths, yes, this is normal behaviour for him and no, he is not in any street gang."

I nod slowly at him and ruffle Jordon’s hair who sighs happily and turns around to tug himself closer to me. For one second I question him but then I realise that he actually dozed off and snores quietly. When I point it out silently to George the other chuckles and grabs his bag.

"Well, I am heading off to meet up with Dylan … you enjoy the rest of your break and if you have to get up, drop him to the floor, that’s how we wake him up and honestly, it’s the only way."

"What do you mean you are leaving me here?", I ask him becoming a little nervous. He smirks at me and pats me on my shoulder.

"I mean that I am leaving but you will have a great time here. Just know that if you hurt him I will hunt you down and murder you."

"Why would I hurt him?"

George shrugs and pushes his now empty chair closer to the table.

"I don’t know, but you can never be too careful. Take care, Danny!"

And with a knowing smile that proves his explanation completely wrong he is out the door, leaving me behind with a lapful of Jordon and an English poem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the patience and I am sorry for the delay. Feedback would be amazing!


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning my mom wakes me up half an hour sooner because she has to head to an early meeting. Not that I mind the extra minutes for a longer shower and a clean shave, but in the end when I leave the house on my skateboard it’s still too early. There is not much to do for me at home in the rest of the time so I head to school hoping that one of the guys who I am actually slowly warming up to is already there. And once I enter the hallway I am not disappointed. I haven’t gotten to my locker yet when Jorel runs up to me, grabs my arm and pulls me along.

"Hi to you, too", I mumble but he doesn’t respond, only quickens his pace.

"Are you okay?"

Again, no response. But when he slows down to pull me around a corner, I don’t need to ask any more questions. In front of us in the hallway is Aron wrestling with George, attempting to choke him while George attempts to force the smaller to the ground.

"What the …?", I look at Jorel again who stares at his two friends in shock. Not that I blame him, but he will not be any help right now. And these two need to be broken up quickly before one of them actually gets hurt. Just when I want to jump in and try to somehow dodge both of their fists, Jordon and Dylan round the corner and immediately get involved. Dylan grabs a hold of Aron’s arms behind his back to pull him back while Jordon steps in front of George blocking two hits with his arms before George actually takes a breath.

"Johnny, what the fuck?!", Jordon shouts at his friend almost desperately, hoping for a response. George glares at him for a second but doesn’t attack him anymore. Instead he takes a step back and carefully feels his nose, probably to check if it is broken. Aron on the other hand continues to struggle against Dylan’s grip.

"Leave me alone!"

"Tell me what the fuck is going on!", Dylan challenges Aron in response only to receive another grunt and an elbow to the stomach that leaves the latino stumbling back into the lockers. Aron uses this distraction to get out of reach and start running towards George again who quickly raises his own fists again but not before pushing Jordon behind himself. Nevertheless, Aron lands the planned punch right in George’s face who falls backwards onto Jordon, pushing them both to the ground. Jorel ran over to Dylan who was still leaning against the wall struggling to draw in a breath while Aron was aiming for his next punch. Now I can’t stay back and watch anymore or George’s face will turn fifty shades of purple tomorrow and only God knows if Aron will stop then or continue to beat up the rest of the band. So instead of staying in the passive role I decide to take action and jump in front of George who is scrambling to get up, my fist raised to connect with Aron’s face. Time seems to slow down as I hear the crack of his bone and he starts screaming in pain, trying to punch me in the face before going down to the floor. I already expect the pain exploding in my own face but before that happens I am pulled to the floor. Aron stops attacking me in favour of catching the blood dripping from his nose with his hands and curse me out. I turn my head around to see Jordon grin at me before actually realising that I am lying on top of him after he saved me from getting my face smashed in.

"Dude, that hit was awesome!", he beams at me before Aron can jump back up. When he does, I quickly get to my knees to protect my abdomen from a new attack, but before he can get over to me, Mr Hoppus storms out of a classroom, someone with thick curls trailing behind.

"What do you think you are doing, Erlichman?", he calls out and Aron freezes mid step, slowly glancing at the teacher with what I can only call fear written across his features.

"He’s beating me up!"

Mr Hoppus looks at me cowering on the floor, Jordon slowly getting back up from the floor, George checking over Dylan, before raising his eyebrows.

"Daniel is beating you up? And did he beat up Dylan and Jordon as well? Will they tell me the same story?"

Aron looks down to the ground quickly and Mr Hoppus nods with a knowing smile.

"Look, Erlichman, everyone here is in defensive stance other than you. All I can say is that I saw you attack but I didn’t see any of them provoking it. I don’t know what happened before, but if you plan on telling me that you are fully innocent you better have a great story."

"But they are all on Danny’s side!", Aron injects quickly, but I can tell he is losing his confidence quickly.

"How come that they all turn their back on you in a week when you have been friends for years? Do you want me to believe that they all lie to cover for Daniel instead of covering for you?"

For a second I actually do worry that they might jump on Aron’s side until I realise that originally this has been a fight between George and Aron, meaning that George would definitely not agree with Aron on what happened. And seeing that Jordon protected me it seems hypocritical for him to disagree with me on this as well. In the end, Aron managed to hurt Dylan too much to get him on his side either and Jorel was still talking very quietly to Dylan and George meaning that he probably was on their side as well. Somehow their singer has managed to piss everybody in the band off in one single fight and I still don’t know what this fight is actually about. By now, I honestly doubt that anyone here remembers the reason why they are fighting and why it escalated. Now it’s Aron on his own, giving up on responding to Mr Hoppus who is still waiting for an answer, arms crossed and only one eyebrow lifted ever so slightly.

"I guessed so … you are coming with me to the office together with whoever knows what this fight is about."

He gazes over to me but George comes up to my rescue.

"I’m coming. Danny has no clue what this is about – he was only helping me out."

After the tutoring lesson I actually started thinking that George is less intimidating than what his looks are portraying at school, but I still haven’t expected him to risk trouble for himself if he was able to quickly push it off to me, the new guy. Nevertheless, I think that being part of the fight makes me a little responsible as well, at least for Aron’s physical injuries.

"I’m coming, too."

Mr Hoppus nods and starts to walk away pulling Aron along while trusting George and me to follow. However, Jordon, Jorel, Dylan and the boy who got the teacher originally are tagging along as well. Apparently, this is the living example of one for all. And when we arrive at the office Mr Hoppus notices as well.

"Okay, boys, I appreciate you all trying to stand up for each other, but I only want to talk to those physically involved. That looks like George, Aron, Daniel and Dylan. The rest of you can enjoy your free time before classes."

And with that the others left me behind with the other three, without Jordon as my protective shield from Aron who is staring at me. He wants my death, I can tell that much without question, but right now Mr Hoppus is watching us too closely for him to attack me again.

"Now, what the actual fuck happened out there? Who started it and why?"

George and Aron glance at each other before George answers: "Aron attacked me because I chewed him out for not showing up for our band practices. I defended myself. And then Dylan and Jordon tried to break us up, but Dylan got punched by Aron in the process and then Danny jumped in and stunned Aron."

Personally, I can agree with everything George is saying but I am not surprised when Aron complains loudly.

"That is not true! George ran up to me and randomly punched me and then Dylan and Danny just started hitting me as well for no real reason."

I mean, I don’t know about the origin of the fight, however, I do know when I jumped in and why. And Aron is trying to save himself from some trouble by lying. Apparently, Mr Hoppus is guessing that as well.

"Now, you are telling me the opposite, and you, Aron, are saying that everybody is lying. Who should I listen to? The one giving me a reason for the fight and an explanation for everyone involved, or the one who claims everybody is lying? Do you see why your arguments are a little … shaky, Aron?"

Maybe I don’t have much experience with Mr Hoppus being a teacher but right now he is my idol. Ice cold and reasonable he is wearing down Aron’s walls while not obviously attacking him in any way that Aron could possibly complain about afterwards.

"It’s possible that Danny and Dylan jumped in later to settle the fight but like Matt being a snitch made that useless. We can solve this shit on our own."

I am assuming that the curly kid from earlier is Matt.

"Leave Matt out of this, he did what he had to do to prevent serious injuries", Dylan hisses out, the first time I can hear him sounding aggravated, and George quickly nods along.

"From what I saw you should be thanking Matthew because it sure wasn’t Danny who looked like he lacked any support from the other students. Besides, you had the chance to solve the issue yourselves and now you’re here for physical assault. Now it’s my time to step up."

By now I know that George is the closest thing possible for him to smiling without looking at him. Of course, beating up Aron will get us all into some trouble but there is no question in who the teacher is blaming for this.

One quick glance at the clock tells all of us that classes are starting in five minutes and Mr Hoppus looks very intent on not letting us out later.

"Okay, now to me this looks like George and Aron got into a fight first and then Dylan and Daniel jumped in, correct?", he starts, looking around the room. Everybody but Aron nods in response but the singer isn’t complaining loudly this time which should really count as approval as well.

"In that case, George and Aron, you have detention today afternoon, Dylan and Daniel, you are free to go but next time please get a teacher involved quicker rather than trying to solve it yourselves. Everyone got it?"

Again, nods across the room and annoyed sighing coming fro Aron. To my surprise, George doesn’t seem to be bothered by detention one bit. Instead, he politely thanks Mr Hoppus and leaves the room to the sound of the bell, followed by Dylan and me.

"You don’t care about detention?", I can’t help but ask and George grins at me.

"Seriously, I know that this hurt Aron’s pride so much more than this detention will hurt me, so I am more than happy to pay that small fee for this victory."

We head to our next classes in silence until we reach the door to my next classroom.

"Hey, Danny?"

My head snaps up to look at George again.

"Thank you for stepping up for me. I appreciate it."

Before I can respond he is out of sight, vanishing in the masses of teenagers flooding the hallways. It looks like I am gaining respect in the group, I can’t wait to see what will happen next. For the first time in years, I am excited to go to school again and again if only to see what trouble they will get in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient with me! I hope you like this chapter ... let me know what you think!


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